


Arrow: Reforged

by orphan_account



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015), Supernatural, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, F/M, Time Travel Fix-It, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-07 15:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18236816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Oliver Queen has been given a second chance to save his city from a dark future and to prepare himself, and the rest of Earth-1's heroes, for the Crisis of Infinite Earths. With only seven years in which to work and the need to avoid the eyes of the Time Masters and Eobard Thawne, Oliver must make as small an impact as possible, something he soon learns is much harder than he believed. His benefactor in all of this? Supernatural's God, Chuck, who is on a multiverse tour with his sister, Amara.The one thing Oliver Queen knows for certain: heroism is the path to failure, and for him, failure is not an option.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Arrow, Flash, Legends, Supergirl, or Supernatural.

I’ve tried this kind of story (Oliver being given a second chance and starting his crusade over) a few times. But there were always a few issues with it for readers. Usually, it was the fact I would always have at least one villain remember the future up to their own deaths, too, based on the whole idea of the universe needing ‘balance’, something _Smallville_ had introduced and which the _Arrowverse_ has always had allusions to with the consequences when Barry’s changed the timeline (ex: Cisco not dying because Barry reset the timeline lead to Mason Bridge dying), even before The Monitor outright said in the _Elseworlds_ crossover that “the universe is a complex piece of machinery, and balance must be maintained. One change requires another.” However, I _am_ thinking more clearly these days and can see a way to do this without having a villain have that knowledge, and it also helps combat an ongoing element in these types of stories.

Namely, that the heroes who get their second chance are always making these big, sweeping changes, and the only consequences are usually that some event is moved forward in the timeline. To use _Arrowverse_ examples: Oliver getting rid of Malcolm early leads to Slade arriving earlier than in canon or Ra’s still becoming interested in him to the point of trying to destroy his life in Starling is one of the more common ones. In other words, they’re usually _not_ careful about upsetting the timeline and attracting unwanted attention. Instead, the heroes often run roughshod over the villains, who despite being cunning psychopaths don’t even try to counteract the moves the heroes make.

In short, there is no real _conflict_ to the events, and conflict is story. So, in this story, the conflict comes from the fact that Oliver must be careful what changes he makes, because even tiny ripples can cause unexpected changes, which will be made obvious to Oliver (and the readers) by the end of the events of the first episode. It will also come from him doing some things differently. That doesn’t mean he’s going to be the Green Practice Dummy from Season 4. It just means he’s going to apply everything he’s _learned_ since he began to the events at hand and may make some different choices as a result.

I’m posting this story only on Archive of Our Own for the moment because A: I don’t know how graphic it might get as time goes on, especially when you factor in Oliver’s skillset, and B: I’d rather stick to my plan of posting only completed works on FFN… I just never said I’d do the same for AO3. Yes, I love loopholes.

Now, enough chatter from me. Enjoy.


	2. Chapter 1

Oliver Queen stood looking out at the skyline of Star City. _Starling City,_ he reminded himself. He would need to get used to calling it that again. Despite seeing the unmarred skyline of the city, the buildings of his and Tommy’s family companies displaying their logo in the distance, and even the presence of his mother just outside the room with Dr. Lamb, Oliver still felt it hard to believe that he was here. He had so much time now, but he also knew that he would have to be careful. That was one of the many warnings he had received when he had been given a second chance after his death during the Crisis the Monitor had warned them about; a Crisis that had come about because of the manipulations of Eobard Thawne.

Combined with the downfall of Star City as the Glades rose up, and what he had learned about the future from his benefactor, and Oliver had been glad to accept the chance to return, even if it meant having to take things slowly. He had worked with the S.C.P.D., tried to embrace what he called the four pillars of heroism (even going so far as to create the Mark of Four as his legacy), and so much more so that his and Felicity’s daughter would grow up in a safe and secure Star City. Instead, his daughter would be trained from a young age to be a warrior, and both his children would end up trying to fight for the burned-out husk that Star City would become by the year 2040. Oliver refused to let that happen.

Oliver knew that there were two key elements to what had brought about the fall of Star City and the rise of the Glades. The first was that the people of the Glades had felt abandoned by not only the S.C.P.D., but also the vigilantes who had sworn to protect Star City. Oliver was mature enough to recognize the fault laid with him; he had abandoned the List, and the primary source of corruption and suffering in the Glades, in the aftermath of the Undertaking, having associated the List with his failure to stop it and with Tommy’s death. Diggle and Felicity encouraging him to be a hero when he returned five months later to ‘save’ Queen Consolidated from Isabel Rochev had only reinforced that decision.

He had stopped caring about ‘the little guy’ and focused on the big battles, be it in the boardroom against Isabel or on the streets against the Triad, Blood, and eventually Slade and his army. He couldn’t forget the little guy again. The S.C.P.D., on the other hand, was not something Oliver could do anything about for the time being; he had barely been able to do anything about it even when he became mayor. And, if Oliver were honest, he felt that the restrictions that his team had had to work under due to their being deputized by the S.C.P.D. had also led to the Uprising. He knew now that people like him, Barry, and all the others could never work within the confines of the law. The whole point of vigilantism was to act when you felt the law wasn’t enough, and even after seven and a half years, Oliver had been able to see that corruption still had its hold on Star City.

Oliver’s sharp ears picked up the _swish_ of the door opening, and he swallowed. He was about to face his mother again, and he wasn’t sure how he would react. He loved Moira, but his knowledge from the next seven and a half years told him that while she believed that what she did, she did out of love, it was more out of a desire to control her family, and especially her children. Thea. William. Emiko. Moira had kept secrets about anything that disrupted the image of the perfect Queen family. _But,_ Oliver reminded himself, _you have a role to play. This is just like with Ra’s or any of the others._ With that thought in mind, Oliver turned to face his mother as she called his name softly. “Hey, Mom,” he said, drawing on some of his happier memories to power the warm smile he aimed in her direction. “Its so good to see you, and not just hear your voice.”

Moira half-sobbed as she pulled him into a hug, and despite his anger at her for some of her actions, her sobs pulled at Oliver’s heart-strings, and he returned her hug, whispering soothing words and rubbing circles on her back, as she had done for him as a child when he became upset.

**_*DC*_ **

The next day was when Oliver began to make some of his more subtle changes. “Mom,” he said, attracting her attention as the car pulled away from the hospital. “There’s something I need to do before we go home. I need to see Laurel. She deserves to hear what happened from me, not some reporter or paparazzi.” Moira looked uncertain. “Mom, this is a conversation that’ll happen no matter what. I’m not expecting anything but anger from her. I know I don’t deserve anything but her anger after what I did. And it’ll be easier talking to her than talking to Quentin, I suspect.”

“Very true,” Moira said, grimacing, before directing the driver to head to C.N.R.I.

“What’s that?” Oliver asked, playing the part of the castaway who had no idea what his loved ones had been up to for the past five years.

“It’s short for the City Necessary Resources Initiative,” Moira said. “It provides legal aid to those who can’t afford it, for the most part, but also receives backing from corporations like Stagg Industries and various subsidiaries.” Moira’s expression softened. “Laurel has done very well with the limited resources at her disposal. I can only imagine what she could do as District Attorney if she was ever offered the job.”

“I’m sure she’d be amazing,” Oliver said softly, looking out the window. Laurel’s Earth-2 counterpart, who had ended up pretending to be their Laurel for quite some time, had ended up taking the role of District Attorney under Pollard, and she had done a good job for someone who didn’t have the education that Earth-1’s Laurel had had. That was one of the things Oliver intended to change; as much as he loved Laurel’s passion, her strengths laid in the courtroom, bringing criminals to justice there. In another life, another time, she might well have excelled at being the Black Canary. But the interference of Thawne and later the Council of Time Masters had kept her from living up to that potential. But she _could_ act as a conscience for the likes of Oliver and Sara, both of whom had lived in the shadows and channeled their darkness into their fighting style.

Moira watched her son carefully. He was clearly deep in thought about something, and she had noted that despite his comforting nature the night before, he was quite reserved. “Is everything alright?” she asked. “You seem… distracted.”

“Just trying to decide how to say what I need to,” Oliver said, and Moira accepted that, knowing that regardless of how well Oliver prepared, the coming conversation would not be a pleasant one for him.

**_*DC*_ **

Dinah Laurel Lance was a tall, athletic twenty-seven-year-old with green eyes that lit with a righteous sort of anger at any perceived injustice and blonde hair that she died brown to be taken more seriously, especially as she had had a sister who practically thrived on embodying the stereotype of the blonde bombshell. Right now, her hair was brushed back over her ears and her green eyes narrowed in concentration as she focused on the corkboard where she had pinned everything connected to her case against Adam Hunt. She was so focused on trying to find the next thread to unravel in Hunt’s perfect little world that she didn’t take note of the noise level in the office dying off, or see the eyes of her friend and co-worker, Joanna de la Vega, widening at her desk across the way as she recognized the figure approaching Laurel from behind. But even Laurel couldn’t miss two words spoken right behind her, spoken by a voice she hadn’t heard in five years. “Hello, Laurel.”

Laurel stood slowly, turning, and found herself face-to-face with Oliver Queen for the first time in five years. “Can we talk in private?” he asked, and she nodded automatically, heading for one of the few interview rooms that they kept for talking with clients. Distracted as she was, she didn’t notice the slight twitch of Oliver’s fingers or the brief narrowing of his eyes as he saw her boss. Oliver, for his part, kept his mind focused on what he had come here to do; he would figure out why he thought Laurel’s boss looked familiar later, when he had time to himself and a chance to review his memories with some of the meditation techniques he had learned in the League of Assassins.

Inside the interview room, Laurel finally broke out of her shock. “You’re alive,” she managed. “When did you-?”

“I got in last night,” Oliver said. “I would’ve come to your place, but I needed to stay over at the hospital and, well, I thought this was something that should be done face-to-face.”

“Sara’s dead,” Laurel said. “Its not hard to guess, Ollie.”

“I don’t _know_ if she’s dead,” Oliver said, and Laurel blinked at that declaration. “When the _Gambit_ went down, we were separated. A year later, she ended up on the island where I washed up. But things happened, and by the end of it all, I thought I’d seen her die a second time. But… she survived being pulled from the _Gambit_ in a Category 2 storm. When this happened again, it was in calm waters. She might have survived. But if she did, I don’t know where she is.” Which, Oliver knew, was only partly-true. He didn’t know where she was right now, exactly; but he did know she was with the League of Assassins.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” Laurel said, bringing Oliver’s attention back to the present.

“I owed you that and more,” Oliver said. “I should’ve just told you I wasn’t ready to take the next step. Instead, I hurt you, and your family, in one of the worst ways I can imagine. I won’t ask for your forgiveness, Laurel. I don’t deserve it after what I did. But I wanted you to tell you myself, rather than let you hear about this from some paparazzi or the news.”

“I appreciate it, Ollie,” Laurel said. “But right now, I don’t know if I can talk to you without being angry about what happened. So, I would also appreciate you leaving.”

“Goodbye, Laurel,” Oliver said, turning to leave. He stopped at the door and turned back. “You know,” he said quietly, bringing Laurel’s attention back to him, “the phonetics for this place’s anagram come out as ‘Canary’. Seems to me a piece of Sara’s always lived on in you, deep in the unconscious part of your mind.” Oliver left the room, and Laurel slid into one of the seats. She had never made the connection between her workplace’s anagram and the pet her father had bought her sister all those years ago.

When the door opened again, it was Joanna and their boss, Eric Gitter. “Laurel, Joanna’s gonna take you home,” Eric told her. “You’re no use to any of our clients like this.” Laurel didn’t even fight Eric on this; she knew she was in no shape to do any work right now and allowed Joanna to guide her out of the building.

**_*DC*_ **

At the Queen Mansion, Oliver entered after his mother and once again had to refrain from smirking at her comment about his room being exactly as she left it, especially now that he knew that was true. The last time around, he had found an unopened package of condoms secreted away in one of his dresser drawers. “Oliver,” the rich baritone of his stepfather, Walter Steele, broke him from his reminiscence, and Oliver met Walter’s firm handshake with one of his own. “It’s damn good to see you,” Walter said.

“Welcome to the family, Walter,” Oliver said with a degree of warmth, which shocked both Walter and Moira, though for different reasons. Oliver smiled. “You’re wearing a wedding band, you’re here on a Saturday, and if this were just an old friend of Dad’s popping in to see how I am after five years away, Tommy’s Dad would be here.” Oliver grew serious. “I’m not angry, Walter. You’ve been here for Mom, for Thea, and I know Dad would want her to be happy. If you make her happy, that’s enough for me.” Oliver patted the older man on the shoulder before moving to Raisa and greeting her. She welcomed him back and proceeded to deliver the message to Moira that Tommy would be coming over for dinner, but all conversation became muted for Oliver as he heard a door shutting upstairs and he moved to the bottom of the staircase. Just as he reached it, she appeared at the top of the stairs.

For a moment, Oliver just stood there, drinking in the sight of his baby sister with that long mane of hair she had had at this age and with an air of innocence to her that she had lost when Malcolm sunk his claws into her in the summer following the Siege. As time had gone on and the pain and losses they had suffered mounted, Oliver had barely seen a whisper of the girl now standing at the top of the stairs in his sister. When Roy had returned to Star City and told Oliver of what had become of Thea, Oliver’s heart had ached, and he had hoped and prayed he would never have to face the woman his sister had become. As it was, his sister was partially-responsible for the woman Mia had become in that dark future his benefactor had revealed, and Oliver was committed to ensuring that his sister would not become the woman he remembered.

Then Thea was bounding towards him, and he caught her as she all but leaped into his arms. “You were with me the whole time,” he told her, which was true. It had been memories of her and Laurel that had kept him going when times were darkest during those five years, and it had been seeing her during that brief visit to Starling City that had fueled his desire to find a way to control the darkness that was born in him after General Shrieve unleashed the Alpha-Omega and Oliver had delivered his own brand of justice to the man before Maseo finished the job.

**_*DC*_ **

That evening, Oliver received an unpleasant surprise when Tommy showed up, but with an extra that hadn’t been at the dinner the last time around: Malcolm Merlyn, the man who had been the architect of so much of the suffering Oliver and those he loved had endured. The man had killed 503 people, including his son who was even now giving Oliver a bro-hug; manipulated Thea into killing Sara Lance and sending Oliver on a collision course with Ra’s al Ghul; aligned himself with Damien Darhk and played a role, however minor, in the death of Laurel Lance; and finally, had founded the Thanatos Guild and painted a target on Thea’s back, a target that had eventually led to her becoming the woman who had seized control of the Guild from Athena after the latter had mortally-wounded Roy, and subjected the man she loved to the Lazarus Pit, unwilling to lose anyone else she loved.

“Malcolm,” Oliver said, shaking the other man’s hand, and grimaced internally when he saw the man’s raised eyebrow. He had gotten so used to greeting the man by his first name in the coming years that he had forgotten that, at this time, he called him Mr. Merlyn. Oliver gave the man one of the disarming smiles he had learned to use as Mayor in the future and said, “Well, Raisa has been cooking up a storm. Hope you both are hungry.”

“I’m sure it will be delicious, as always,” Tommy said. “Come on, buddy, let’s get to dinner and start catching you up on everything you missed.”

Oliver let Tommy’s inane banter wash over him as they sat and were served, feeling grateful that he had made the decision to ask Raisa to prepare him a special plate, one more suited to someone whose diet had become very different over the past five years. While his mind was from seven and a half years into the future, his body was still the one that had spent four years simply surviving on the island or in Hong Kong. Even the last year he had spent in Russia had been one where his diet wasn’t consistent. Oliver was just glad that, this time around, he had avoided being dosed with the Red Death, as that would’ve made eating even what he was that much harder, with every movement of his clothes rubbing against his scars reminding him of when he first received them.

When he had been offered this second chance, he had known that being injected with the Red Death was one of the few things he had to keep from happening, even if it meant Kovar was still a threat. He had awoken the day before he intended to leave Russia for Lian Yu and told Anatoli he had changed his mind. His Russian friend had been very happy about that, and had been fine with getting Oliver to Hong Kong, where he cashed in a favor with Amanda Waller. Now, though, he would have to prepare for Kovar to come at him from a different direction. Kovar had gone after him quickly on Lian Yu because he was alone; here, in Starling City, there was every chance the man would come at him in more calculated ways. Especially since the local chapter of the Bratva were old-school and would be more inclined to aid Kovar in getting rid of the ‘American puppy’ that had earned Anatoli’s favor. And that’s if Kovar even let them know who he was in the Bratva; Alexi hadn’t known until he introduced himself the last time around.

Oliver pulled out of his thoughts as Tommy finished his spiel, which ended with a comment about that show _Lost_ (which Oliver had never watched). In the last timeline, Oliver had been focused on doing the same thing his mother had been; pretending everything was normal. This time, he couldn’t help but feel that Tommy had been subtly trying to get him to talk about the island; Oliver realized why he had never made that connection when Thea asked, with all the subtlety of a Mirakuru soldier in full rampage mode, “What was it like there?” Oliver couldn’t help the spike of irritation and anger that surged up in him as Tommy, Moira, and Walter all stopped their quiet discussions and looked at him, wondering what he would say. Malcolm was more subtle, with a hint of understanding in his eyes. Oliver couldn’t help but note the irony that the one person at the table who understood his potential reluctance to talk about a painful subject was the former right-hand to the Demon’s Head and a psychopath who had sowed the seeds for a good amount of the pain Oliver had suffered over the course of thirteen years.

Oliver considered his response carefully. Finally, he answered his sister’s query. “What would you call living in caves, avoiding pirates and mercenaries using the island as a hideaway, and enduring the occasional bout of torture?” he asked in return, and felt a vindictive sort of pleasure at seeing the way his family and best friend’s faces paled and shock twisted their features. “The island was called Lian Yu. That’s Mandarin, for purgatory, and I would say its aptly named.” Oliver stood, taking the bowl Raisa had been holding as her hands trembled while she stared at him in shock and horror. He set the bowl of fruit on the table. “I’m going to get a breath of fresh air,” he said into the silence that had fallen with his answer and left the room.

Oliver found himself walking out onto the grounds and stopping in front of the two headstones that had been erected as a memorial to him and his father. He crouched in front of them. “It’s a lot harder than I imagined, being back here,” he said quietly, sensing the presence that was approaching from behind and choosing his words carefully, so they would sound like he was referring to being back from the island, not (he mentally grimaced as a pop culture reference invaded his mind) back from the future. “People are almost the same, but there’s differences. I guess that’s what happens in life… people change, even if they appear to be the same as you remember.”

“The most challenging thing about coming home after years away,” Malcolm said from behind him, “is trying to connect with the people you left behind.” Malcolm stepped up beside Oliver as the younger man rose back into a standing position; Malcolm looked down at the headstones. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss your father. He always had a wise piece of counsel to offer.” Malcolm looked over at Oliver. “It does get easier, if you can find a way to let someone in.”

“I’m guessing you weren’t able to do that with Tommy,” Oliver said, reminding the man of his less-than-stellar role as Tommy’s father during their adolescent years.

“Tommy felt I abandoned him after Rebecca died, and in the years I was gone he had found someone who was more of a father to him than I could be when I got back,” Malcolm replied.

Oliver considered his next words carefully. In the previous timeline, the List was what had drawn Malcolm into a confrontation with him, but more importantly, it had been the relic of a previous attempt by Robert, Malcolm, and others to clean up the city. Those others were part of Malcolm’s cabal, and the real rot at the center of Starling City’s ongoing struggle with criminality and corruption. If he wanted to truly save his city from the dark future that his benefactor had shown him, then he needed to know who was in Tempest, and there was only one way he could find that out: by infiltrating it as he did the League of Assassins.

“I used to wonder why you were so different,” he said, causing Malcolm to look over at him with interest. “I remember what you were like before Rebecca died. But then… then I saw Sara die. I’ve spent the past five years waking up from a nightmare where its Laurel, not Sara, who came with me and its Laurel, not Sara, who I see die.” Oliver let his gaze become unfocused as he remembered the terror he had felt when Darhk stabbed Laurel, the desperation as he raced to Starling General, carrying her wounded form bridal style, and the crushing despair he felt when the doctor called time of death. “Even the idea of losing her terrified me, made me angry. I cannot imagine the pain you felt losing Rebecca. What I remember of her, she was a lot like Laurel.”

“She was,” Malcolm said quietly, and Oliver noted he had a thoughtful look on his face. That was enough for now; he couldn’t rush this. “I hope you never have to truly understand what I went through, Oliver. It is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I’ll go back inside, let them know you’re okay. We were worried, with how you reacted.”

“Thank you, Malcolm,” Oliver said.

“May I ask why you’re comfortable calling me by my first name?” Malcolm asked.

“Sorry,” Oliver said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was a coping mechanism on the island. I’d imagine all sorts of conversations I’d have with everyone and started talking out loud at one point. It felt weird constantly saying Mr. Merlyn, so… I can go back to that, if you prefer.”

“No, no, I actually prefer this,” Malcolm said. “It makes me feel as though a piece of Robert is still here. I guess that’s true.” Malcolm smiled and patted Oliver on the shoulder before turning and leaving. Oliver watched him go and didn’t do anything until he saw the man enter the house.

Oliver let out a string of quiet curses in every language he knew once he was free and clear. Malcolm _had_ been partly responsible for Oliver feeling the same way he had when Rebecca died. Oliver _did_ know his rage, and while it had been quenched in the future with the deaths of Andrew Diggle and Damien Darhk, Oliver knew he wouldn’t feel completely satisfied until he drove an arrow through Malcolm’s heart. Only then would he be truly free of the anger he felt even now at the memory of Laurel’s body lying on that hospital bed, her green eyes, that had always shined with passion and caring, blank and unseeing.

But for now, he would have to hold back. Tomorrow was the day he was due to get kidnapped; this time, he would answer the questions semi-truthfully and not take the kidnappers out. He just hoped that since he wasn’t going to be going to see Laurel that there would be no casualties when he was abducted. Maybe he should even arrange it so only he was taken; he still felt guilty for taking Tommy in Hong Kong all those years ago and traumatizing his best friend in order to save Tommy’s life.

**_*DC*_ **

As it turned out, no abduction happened. Oliver was perplexed when he got through the entire day with Tommy without running into his kidnappers from the previous timeline. Still, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Without the kidnapping, and without the need to potentially fight the kidnappers if he had been wrong and they hadn’t had orders to keep him alive, he didn’t need to come up with the fiction of the Hood just yet. He could do as he had originally planned in the last timeline and wait a while before he unveiled his vigilante persona. He could spend his time gathering intelligence on those targets who were in Starling. Some, he knew he would still need to deal with; others he could hold off on. Adam Hunt, for example, was someone who wasn’t a major threat to innocent people beyond the financial ruin, and Oliver could deal with him at any time. But people like Jason Brodeur, Leo Mueller, and Justin Claybourne… they were of a more immediate concern.

Oliver opened one of the three journals he had purchased while out on the town with Tommy. One journal would contain what he called the ‘Critical Path’ targets, people from the List whose actions had more immediate consequences like Brodeur, Mueller, and Claybourne; another would contain those like Adam Hunt and Marcus Redman, people who swindled the elderly, disabled, and pensioners out of the money they needed to survive; the third would be his way of keeping everything from the previous timeline straight and examining the changes made by his own actions. This journal, he would keep on his person as much as he could, and then keep it in whatever base of operations he created for himself. It was this third journal that he had opened, and began to write in, using a special code he had developed in the summer between his adventures in Hong Kong and Amanda Waller finding him in Coast City.

_It’s only been a few days since my return to the past. Time travel and all this craziness has never been my thing; this was more Barry’s or Sara’s thing. But according to my ‘benefactor’, I was the only one who could do this. Something about being born and raised on a mystical convergence and having become a warrior on another. He also had this weird smile when he said it; makes me wonder if I’m the only one he sent back or if he was just amused at his own bullshit answer. Oh, and yeah, this guy claimed to be God, but that he preferred the name Chuck. Barry mentioned something once about fifth-dimensional beings and other things that make my head hurt, but I remember him saying they love to cause mischief. Well, I’d say sending the guy without powers back in time instead of the time-traveling former assassin or the speedster with the experience is gonna cause plenty of that._

_I’ve already made a few small changes to the timeline. I didn’t go to Lian Yu, so I didn’t get injected with the Red Death and have half my skillset (not to mention my own smarts) stunted by the mental and physical pain that it causes with every movement. It’s nice to think clearer, and I’ll need it since this means Kovar didn’t have the slow death of waiting to die, trapped in his own mind on Lian Yu that he had last time… assuming the scavengers didn’t get to him before he died. Memo to self: make Kovar’s end very painful, especially if he threatens my family._

_A conversation with Malcolm seems to have made a difference as I didn’t experience the kidnapping that occurred in the previous timeline. I can focus on gathering intel on my targets and on infiltrating Tempest. This time, I take out the corruption at its heart._

_I think the hardest part for me was the other offer that this Chuck made me: to have Laurel at my side when I came back. It came down to the answer to a simple question: was she in heaven? Was she happy where she was? The answer to both was yes. She was in her own personal heaven, one where she and I were married and living a normal life. It reminded me of the Dominator dream world, and the pain I felt when I had to leave. How could I cause Laurel an even more devastating pain on top of everything else I’ve done to her? So, I refused the offer, despite how tempting it was._

_Tomorrow, I begin searching for a place to house my base of operations and start researching the Critical Path targets and prioritizing them accordingly. As much as I hate the idea, I can’t get rid of Simon/Adrian when I kill Claybourne; that could attract the attention of either Thawne or the Council. Even with the small changes I make, I could attract their attention. Something that huge would draw their gaze. For the same reason, I can’t go after Diaz, Dante, or Malcolm until the appropriate time. As it is, my ridding the world of Malcolm_ should _ensure that I never enter a confrontation with Ra’s, and that should keep Adrian from becoming too great a threat since he won’t have Talia to train him._

_Seven years. That’s how long I have before things become irreversible in Starling and the Crisis arrives._

_Too bad I can’t just get a confession about Nora Allen’s murder out of Thawne right now and then kill the bastard._

Oliver finished the entry and closed the journal, which he then slipped in between his mattress and box springs before getting ready for bed, unaware that he had made a critical error in the way he had separated the people on the List in his mind, an error that could have dire consequences.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> The way Roy acted in the “Star City 2040” episode honestly made me think of the way Thea acted after being exposed to the Lazarus Pit. And I think it far more likely that Nyssa trained Mia as a favor to Thea than as one to Felicity.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There is a trigger scene in this chapter.

The next day was a slow one. Thanks to the kidnapping never happening, Moira didn’t feel the need to hire Diggle as a bodyguard for Oliver, and so his day was spent researching potential locations to house his base of operations, even if he would have to purchase it through a subsidiary he was setting up to fund his work as the Green Arrow: Q-Core. Most would assume that the Q stood for Queen, but in truth it stood for the one pop culture reference Oliver had a decent understanding of: the character Q from the _James Bond_ franchise who provided Bond with all his ‘toys’, and that was technically what Q-Core would be doing. Oliver was also on the lookout for potential hires of Q-Core who wouldn’t be so quick to judge his actions, even if they didn’t know the reasons for them.

Worst case scenario, he would have to recruit some people from A.R.G.U.S. He despised Waller, but he also couldn’t pretend she hadn’t helped him more than once while she was the Director of A.R.G.U.S. He and his team had never had to worry about certain legalities because they were technically a special operations unit working with A.R.G.U.S., albeit one that was more visible than Task Force X, and as a result none of the evidence they procured could fall under such things as ‘fruit of the poisonous tree’. Oliver had never told any of his team that, especially since it had been Lyla who had removed that protection thanks to Felicity’s involvement in Helix and the escape of Cayden James from A.R.G.U.S. custody. She and Diggle had had enough marital problems without Oliver adding more. Which meant that this time around, Oliver would have to keep Waller alive since he wouldn’t _have_ that connection to A.R.G.U.S. through Lyla, seeing as he wouldn’t be recruiting Diggle.

Oliver’s research into his targets was fruitful; Brodeur, Mueller, and Claybourne were the most immediate ones. He had also added The Count and The Dodger to the Critical Path list of targets; according to the reports he had found, the Count was still experimenting with Vertigo, finding the right formula, but the Dodger would have to wait for the time being. Cyrus Vanch would also be an issue to take care of when he cropped up, as would Garfield Lyns. Oliver hoped that by the time Lyns showed up he would have a tranquilizer and be able to take the man down before he did anything to his former comrades from the Firefly company. Martin Somers’ connection to the Triad made him a priority target, especially since Laurel would be crossing paths with the man and he would set the Triad after her.

The last item on Oliver’s agenda for the day was finding out if the loft that Thea had bought in the previous timeline was available; it was, and Oliver sent a message to the realty agent with his new phone, asking for a tour. One of the advantages of using Waller to return to Starling instead of what he had done in the previous timeline was that his legal resurrection had been handled before he even stepped off the plane onto the tarmac in Starling City. That would further separate him from the targets of the vigilante since he wouldn’t see Somers at the courthouse. Oliver received a message back from the realtor that they would be happy to give him a tour and asked if that afternoon was alright with him. He sent back that it was.

Oliver loved his family, but he couldn’t stay in this mansion with Moira much longer. The urge to tell her he knew about William, about Thea’s true father, about _Emiko_ was growing stronger. Oliver headed downstairs, managing to avoid his mother, and entered the garage, smiling as he saw his favored bike, the Ducati, sitting there. He checked the oil and the gas quickly, finding both had been kept up, and then grabbed his helmet and the keys to the bike. It was time to see a person about an apartment.

**_*DC*_ **

Adam Hunt frowned as he ended the call with Eric Gitter from C.N.R.I. The man had tried his best to get Lance to stand down, but as Gitter put it, the young lawyer was like a bloodhound; she would keep searching and digging until she found the dirty secrets to unravel his whole operation. Gitter had also said intimidation or bribes wouldn’t work; Cyrus Vanch had tried _both_ when Lance targeted him and his operation with her class-action lawsuit, and Lance had done nothing to jeopardize her job at the legal aid office. While C.N.R.I. wouldn’t be a problem for much longer, if the rumblings he’d been hearing were true, that didn’t mean Lance would stop. She would probably found her own office and she not only had the Merlyn brat in her orbit, but Oliver Queen had been at C.N.R.I. already and might fund her own office as a way of trying to buy her forgiveness, which would put Hunt and others like him right back on the defensive.

No, there was only one way to handle this. It wasn’t the first time some incorruptible type had come sniffing around, and it wouldn’t the last. With the protection he received for making occasional donations to fund new gear for the department’s S.W.A.T. teams (which also earned him influence in the S.C.P.D.), he had made contacts he wouldn’t have otherwise made due to stints in white collar prison. Adam went to his desk and pulled out a burner phone, dialing the top of the three numbers in the contacts list. When the recipient picked up, he spoke quickly. “I need someone dealt with. Her name is Laurel Lance. An attorney for C.N.R.I. It can’t look like a hit. I don’t care if its a home invasion gone wrong or her throat slashed after being raped in an alley; whatever it is, it can’t look like a targeted assassination. You’ll get a bonus if its done tonight.” Adam hung up after the recipient acknowledged the request.

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel Lance balanced the armful of folders in her arms as she dug in her coat for the keys to her apartment. It had been _another_ busy day at C.N.R.I., not only working on the Hunt case but also beginning prep for the upcoming Nocenti v Somers case. Laurel’s lip curled in distaste at the thought of Martin Somers as she unlocked her apartment, pushing her door open and holding it that way with her right leg. Somers had friends in the D.A.’s office who had made certain that Kate Spencer knew that taking on the Somers case would mean crossing paths with the Triad. DA Spencer enjoyed a cushy existence and didn’t want to rock the boat. The fact that the case was about the murder of a man who worked as stevedore, and not taking on the Triad directly, didn’t seem to cross Spencer’s mind.

Laurel set the files on the nightstand in the hall along with her purse before heading to the kitchen and filling a tea kettle with water, which she put on the stove. After the day she had had, she needed to relax, and that meant a cup of her favorite cocoa; she knew some people just filled a mug with the cocoa mix and hot water from the tap before nuking it in the fridge, but there was just something _so_ much more satisfying and relaxing when the cocoa was mixed with boiling hot water from a tea kettle. And after the ugly confrontation she had had with Eric earlier today, that was something she desperately needed.

As Laurel retrieved a mug from the cupboard, her expression faltered slightly; resting in the back of the cupboard were a pair of twin mugs from the coffee shop where she and Oliver had had their first date. Ollie had bought the mugs as a first anniversary gift, and they had used them more than once when he had stayed over, usually with the claim she was overworking herself. She fingered the mugs for a moment, feeling her heart ache for those simpler times, when it was just her and Ollie, and there was no wall between them. She still didn’t understand, to this day, why he had done what he did. Cheating on her was one thing; but cheating on her with her _sister_? Why go that far? What had he been thinking? Had he wanted to destroy everything between them?

Laurel shook her head, half-angry and half-sad, before picking a plain brown mug from the cupboard and placing it on the counter. She put three spoonful’s of cocoa mix in it just as the kettle began to whistle. She leaned over to turn off the burner, and with the whistle of the kettle loud in her ear, she didn’t hear the _creak_ of her front door opening or the _click_ that signaled it closing again. Laurel poured the boiling water into the mug, stirring the cocoa and setting the kettle back on the stove. She picked up the mug, blowing on it softly as she headed back towards the living room, with the singular goal of curling up on her couch and doing nothing for the next ten minutes but relaxing.

Something struck her, hard, on the back of the head as she entered her living room. Her vision went white with pain for a moment, and she barely felt the mug slip from her hands as she collapsed. She was could _feel_ the hot liquid as it stained her long-sleeved light sweater, could feel the skin beneath the sweater burn from the heat. Black dots danced before her eyes as she felt someone grip her ankles, and she felt herself being dragged along her floor; then there was nothing but darkness.

When Laurel became aware of her surroundings again, her head was pounding, but even through the pain she could recognize her own bedroom. Her arms were bound up over her head, secured to the headboard; something had been used to gag her and muffle any cry for help she made, secured there with duct tape slapped across her mouth, and her jeans had been pulled down around her ankles. Her attacker was watching her from the doorway, and he noticed when she pulled at the rope, smile widening as her green eyes found him and widened in fear. “That’s right, Ms. Lance,” the man said quietly. “You’re mine to do with as I please. I gotta say, doing in a lawyer who’s the daughter of a cop is something special. I’m gonna have a bit more fun than I usually do.” He stepped forward, Laurel trying to push away from him, and stopped when a knock sounded at the door.

“Laurel?” a voice called, and Laurel felt relief as she recognized Oliver’s voice. However angry she might be about what happened with Sara, she knew he wasn’t the kind of man to stand by and let something like this happen.

“Scream and you’ll be dead before he even gets in here, and then he’ll follow,” her captor said quietly, squashing her relief as he exited the bedroom; she was angry with Oliver, but she didn’t want him to _die_ , and she didn’t want to die either. She heard him open the door. “Hi, I’m Jack. I work at C.N.R.I. with Laurel.”

“Guess you were out of the office when I went there the other day,” Oliver replied.

_Please, Ollie, see through him,_ Laurel begged in her mind while she worked on the bindings around her wrists.

“I was,” ‘Jack’ replied. “Heard about it, though. She had to leave afterward cuz of your visit. Not sure seeing you again would be good.”

“No, probably not,” Oliver admitted. “I just need some advice… I guess I should’ve waited until she decided she was ready to talk to me. I’ve always been a bit impulsive.”

“Well, I’ll give her the message,” ‘Jack’ said kindly. “She’s de-stressing. Eric gave her a hard time earlier today.”

“Alright,” Oliver said. The door closed again. ‘Jack’ reappeared.

“Now, let’s see, where were we?” he mused, placing the gun on the dresser by her bedroom door and pulling a hunting knife from his coat. Laurel squirmed as he traced the tip along her bare right leg. “Such beautiful, flawless skin, its almost a shame to ruin such a fine canvas,” the man mused. “But a job’s a job. Now, first decision: do I take you from the front or back? Or do I do both?” The next moment, a loud gunshot filled the small room, and blood and brain matter sprayed the wall and nightstand beside Laurel’s bed before the intruder’s body crumpled.

Laurel felt a sob of relief well up inside her and she let it out as Oliver Queen entered the room, still holding the gun that the intruder had set on the dresser, before snatching up the knife the intruder had had and setting the gun on the nightstand before cutting her free. He pulled the tape off her mouth and removed what she recognized as one of her socks from her mouth. He tossed it aside, pulling her into a comforting hug as she sobbed in despair and relief; despair that she had been in that position, and relief because someone had come for her. “It’s okay,” Oliver whispered, and Laurel could hear the emotion choking his own voice as he did held her, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “It’s alright.” The two just sat there, Laurel slumped up against Oliver and sobbing out all the emotions she had bottled up inside for the past five years.

**_*DC*_ **

“Laurel!” Quentin Lance cried as he entered the hospital room; he had been woken up from a drink-induced sleep by Hilton (the only person besides Laurel with a key to his apartment), and had nearly had an aneurysm when he was told that Laurel had been assaulted in her own apartment and nearly raped before the assailant was killed by, of all people, Oliver Queen. Quentin hated Queen for getting Sara killed, but now the punk had saved his only remaining daughter. He’d deal with how he reconciled the conflicting feelings he had for Queen later; for the time being, his focus needed to be on Laurel. “Laurel, baby…”

“Daddy,” Laurel choked, sitting up in bed and accepting the hug he pulled her into, her own arms wrapping around him. He felt her shuddering in his arms and closed his eyes. This had always been his greatest fear; to be told one of his little girls had suffered a sexual assault. Even though Queen had interrupted the assailant before he could get that far, Laurel had still been bound, gagged, and had her jeans stripped down to give her attacker ‘easy access’. She had _known_ what he wanted to do, and Quentin had interviewed enough rape victims to know that the psychological impact of knowing what was coming could be as damaging as having it happen. “I was so scared,” Laurel whispered as her cries lessened. “I was so _helpless_ , and it scared me that all I could do was hope and _pray_ that someone came. If he didn’t toy with me, if-if Ollie hadn’t come, he would-he would’ve-”

“I know, baby,” Quentin whispered, running a hand through his daughter’s hair, tears trickling out of his eyes at the pain his little girl was going through. He wished he could put a bullet in the head of the sick bastard who had broken his little girl like this. She’d been the rock for him while pushing through her own grief over the loss of Sara and Oliver (she had tried to hide it because of their mutual anger at the Queen scion but Quentin knew his daughter had still grieved for Oliver), and now it was like when she was a teenager, when her confidence had been more fragile and her self-worth tied up in how her peers saw her.

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver Queen entered his family’s home an hour after leaving Starling General (his apartment, which he hadn’t told his mother about yet, wouldn’t be ready until the next day), his expression blank but the fingers of his right hand were twitching with the desire to have his bow in his hand. He had finally remembered where he had seen Laurel’s boss before; a dark parking garage as Oliver had waited for the perfect moment to strike against Adam Hunt as the Hood. Hunt had been telling Gitter to deal with Laurel and to remind Judge Grell he could pull him off the bench as easily as he had put him on it.

Oliver entered the living room, not even noticing those already there as he went to the stand that held a decanter of brandy. He put a few cubes of ice into a glass, poured a generous serving of brandy, and moved to the fireplace with the glass in hand, sipping the brandy while his free hand flexed repeatedly. A part of him wished he hadn’t killed the bastard, if only so he could arrange the man’s ‘release’ to capture him and give him a _full_ understanding of the breadth of the mistake he had made in going after Laurel, in trying to _rape_ her in her own home. Well, there was always Gitter and Hunt. He was going to enjoy making them _scream_.

“Oliver?” Moira asked concernedly from behind him. “Are you alright?”

“Laurel’s in the hospital,” Oliver replied distractedly, barely registering what his mother had said. He faintly heard the gasps of his little sister and two men. He registered both male voices as being familiar but couldn’t place them just then. His mind was filled with the sounds of Laurel sobbing, the feeling of her body shuddering in his arms, and the tears that had filled her eyes when the body dropped, and she saw him standing there. Seeing her look so afraid reminded him of when Zytle had dosed her with his special Vertigo, and when he had carried her to Starling General after Darhk stabbed her. “Someone broke into her apartment and tried to rape her. I killed him before he could. Cops are ruling it a justified shooting since Laurel was in imminent danger.”

“Oh, dear God,’ Moira said softly, and Oliver felt his mother approach. She put a hand on his shoulder in comfort. “I’m so sorry, Oliver. I know how much Laurel means to you, even with things strained between you.”

“She was so _scared_ ,” Oliver said, closing his eyes. “I only left when Hilton called us to say he and Quentin were downstairs, and I only left because she didn’t need me and Quentin squaring off.” Oliver drained the brandy and set it on the stand where the decanter. He turned and saw that the other man in the room had been Malcolm, not Walter. This was the _second_ time Malcolm had shown up at the mansion when he hadn’t popped by until Moira had been shot at by Helena when she was aiming for the Bertinelli lawyer the last time around. It was something he could focus on. “Malcolm. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Our conversation the other day reminded me that the only way we lose those we care about is if we give up on connecting with them,” Malcolm said smoothly, and if Oliver didn’t know the man so well from when they had worked closely to take down Ra’s, he might have believed him. “Tommy and your family are the only connections I have left.” Tommy rolled his eyes so only Oliver could see; clearly his best friend didn’t believe one word of what Malcolm was saying either. “It’s sickening that the city has become such a cesspit that someone like Laurel isn’t safe even in their own home.”

“Yes, it is,” Oliver said softly. “But there’s not much that can be done about it. Or at least not much _I_ can do.” Oliver left the living room and headed for the exit that led to the motor pool that passed as the family garage. Inside, he found his bike and rolled it over to the workbench, where he began tuning it. When he hit the streets as the vigilante, he would need it exceeding its current speed and agility; besides, tinkering helped take his mind off things. He couldn’t do anything right now; but tomorrow… tomorrow, he’d be having a chat with Gitter and maybe Hunt, too. Oliver briefly noted he was no longer alone in the garage but didn’t say anything.

“You’re trying to keep your anger from burning you up from the inside,” Malcolm said softly as he closed the door. “I know what that’s like. You killed the person who hurt the woman you love, but it isn’t enough. It’s never enough, because the environment which created them still exists.”

“Like I said in there, not much I can do about it, is there?” Oliver said. “Even being a cop or lawyer doesn’t seem to make a difference these days.”

“I want you to do something for me, Oliver,” Malcolm said. “I want you to think about the Glades; what its become, what kind of people it brings into our city. How many of those who live there are good people, people who would never harm those like Laurel and Rebecca?” Malcolm paused for a moment. “I want you to ask yourself how something like this could be stopped. Don’t answer now; think about it, mull it over for a few days… and when you feel you have an answer, come find me. I’ll leave word at Merlyn Global you’re to be sent to me right away, and that the house staff are to bring you to me if you come to me there.”

Oliver looked at the man who had been named his godfather during a happier time. “I’ll think about it,” he said quietly. “Not sure if I’ll have much of an answer for you.”

“I’ll leave you to your work, and your thoughts,” Malcolm said, patting Oliver on the shoulder and leaving the room.

**_*DC*_ **

Later, having showered and gotten ready to sleep, Oliver pulled out his ‘time journal’ and began a new entry.

_Unintended consequences of choosing to wait for the debut of Green Arrow and assigning Adam Hunt a ‘lesser role’ has Laurel in the hospital, recovering from nearly being raped. Hunt had to be the one behind it. I’ll get him to squeal, and I’ll use him to get into Tempest. Malcolm is already sounding me out in that regard thanks to what happened with Laurel._

_I’ll need to be careful. These unintended consequences could lead to something far worse. Laurel’s already faced a near-rape she didn’t experience the last time simply because I chose to delay the debut of the Green Arrow. What else might change? What else_ will _change?_

_I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I’m not a hero. I don’t inspire hope; I inspire fear. That is the only way I know how to do this. I wish Barry were here. I could use a friend._

Oliver returned his journal to its hiding place and fell into an uneasy sleep, waking up more than once with Laurel’s name on his lips. At some point, Thea slipped into the room and hugged her brother, being there for him and humming a soft tune she remembered her mother humming for her when she had nightmares. Moira watched them for a time, her eyes wet with tears. Thea had been shocked earlier when Oliver said he had killed the man who had hurt Laurel (and so had Moira to be honest), but she wasn’t judging her brother. Tommy had admitted quietly after Oliver left and Malcolm went after him that he thought he would do the same.

**_*DC*_ **

Malcolm Merlyn observed Starling from his office. The culmination of the grand undertaking he had set for himself and his allies in Tempest was approaching, and as a result, he was paranoid. Because of that paranoia, he knew there was something off about his godson. Oliver had certainly become more guarded than he once was (his godson had once worn his heart on his sleeve, like Tommy and Laurel did), but Malcolm could tell when he was being manipulated. His godson was good, but Malcolm had been manipulating people and events in Starling for almost sixteen years now.

Oliver knew something. Robert had told him _something_. That much was clear; but what was also clear was that Oliver genuinely seemed to have an inkling of how Malcolm had felt after Rebecca died. Malcolm had wanted to see just how great of an understanding that was. Which was why one of his agents who helped him control the criminal scum in the Glades reporting Adam Hunt wanted Laurel Lance dealt with had been an opportunity. He had watched from one of the empty spaces in the building next to Laurel’s as the hired gun went to work, and watched his godson arrive. He had seen Hunt’s hireling talk with someone, and then seen his godson scrambling down from the roof via the fire escape. Then he had watched and heard as his godson killed the man who had threatened the woman he still clearly loved.

Oliver was stronger than his father, stronger than Moira; he knew that lines had to be crossed, he knew that they had to do what must be done to protect those they cared about. He _understood_. Now, Malcolm wanted to know if his godson had it in him to hunt down the ones truly responsible for what had happened to Laurel. What would he do to Gitter? To Hunt? And once he was done with them, what answer would he bring to Malcolm? Malcolm would hope for his desired outcome, that Oliver saw that the Glades couldn’t be saved. If Oliver was as lethal as he seemed in the way he had so quickly and coldly executed Hunt’s hireling… Malcolm could have a more visible enforcer, as his vows to Ra’s kept him from acting too overtly as Al Sa-Her, and someone who could truly be his right hand as he brought swift justice to the criminal vermin that had choked their city for too long and rebuilt the Glades as a memorial to Rebecca.

**_*DC*_ **

Konstantin Kovar’s lip curled up into a disgusted sneer as he took in the safehouse in America where he would be staying for the time being. He had tracked Queen back to his home of Starling City and contacted the local Bratva chapter. These were loyal Russians who had preferred Gregor to Knyasev, who had weak policies and intended to change the Bratva, move them towards ‘legitimate’ businesses. Alexi Leonov had proven to be a valuable ally already; while this safehouse was disgusting, Queen would never picture him staying here, even if he pictured him allying with the local Bratva. Kovar had a reputation of being a man with refined tastes, and Queen had grown up with a similar lifestyle. He wouldn’t believe Kovar would live in such squalor, which was the only reason Kovar tolerated this… shithole.

“Mr. Kovar,” Alexi’s ‘mechanic’, a man named Ivanov, said, drawing Kovar’s attention. Ivanov held up a manila envelope. “The first surveillance photos on Queen and those in his social circle.” Kovar smirked and took the envelope, heading over to a wall that he had set up to learn everything he could about Oliver Queen. Not just about who he was now, but who he was before he entered Russia, before he became _Kapushion_. Kovar examined the photos one by one. There was Queen’s family, of course: his stately mother, his baby sister, his nigger stepfather. There was his best friend and his ex-girlfriend, a lawyer and some trust fund brat. But the next picture surprised Kovar; surprised him and made him suspicious of the American he had dealt with. Malcolm Merlyn had sold him the bio-weapon he intended to use to bring back the glory of the old Soviet empire, and then Oliver Queen had stopped him; Oliver Queen, whose limited social circle since returning to Starling City from Russia (while pretending he had been stranded on Lian Yu for five years) included the very man who sold him the weapon?

“What else do we know about these two?” Kovar said, lifting the pictures of Queen’s best friend and ex-girlfriend.

“The lawyer is Laurel Lance. Her father’s a detective; she is currently in the hospital,” Ivanov replied. “The boy is Tommy Merlyn. He is carbon copy of what Queen used to be, before his time away. Arrogant. Sleeps with anyone he can. Weak.”

Kovar smirked. “Find out everything you can about the Merlyn boy,” he said. “Merlyn Sr. sells me a weapon, then Queen ruins my moment of triumph? Not coincidence, I think. The boy, Thomas, is the weak link that binds them.”

“As you say, Mr. Kovar,” Ivanov replied.

**_*DC*_ **

Eobard Thawne, in the guise of Harrison Wells, entered S.T.A.R. Labs in the early morning, as he always did. He liked to check in with Gideon, get an update on Barry’s progress, and ensure that the future remained intact. When he had first killed Nora Allen, before he had taken the identity of Harrison Wells, the future had been one where the Crisis of Infinite Earths overwhelmed the heroes who fought it. The Flash had been an inspiration to many of them; when he had become Harrison Wells the timeline had been restored, with a few differences. Instead of Superman and Batman who had fought against him with The Flash, it had been Green Arrow and the Atom.

A bit of digging had revealed that the Council of Time Masters had done some manipulations of their own regarding the timeline. Queen had spent five years, not three, on an island; he had been in his early-20s rather than at the beginning of his business career at Queen Consolidated; and he had come out of it not as a quippy Robin Hood who only killed when absolutely necessary, but as a dark anti-hero who was willing to do whatever it took to bring down his target. Still, in the end, the main event (the Crisis of Infinite Earths) remained intact. So long as that remained, Eobard had a home to go back to.

Entering the Time Vault, Eobard activated the A.I. console. “Good morning, Gideon,” he said.

“Good morning, Dr. Wells,” Gideon replied pleasantly.

“How is Mr. Allen doing?”

“Mr. Allen’s studies are coming to a close, and he is likely to join the C.C.P.D. despite his misgivings towards them,” Gideon replied.

“Good,” Eobard replied. “Show me the timeline.” Gideon did as requested, and Eobard had to brace himself against the console as the headline sank in.

**_Regime Stands Triumphant:_ **

**_Crisis Averted_ **

Eobard swallowed hard, mouthing words that wouldn’t form. “Gideon,” he finally managed. “How did this happen? Can you find the source of the disruption in the timeline?”

“I cannot, Dr. Wells,” Gideon replied. “The timeline is still in flux.”

“As soon as you pinpoint the source of the disruption, inform me,” Eobard said. The picture accompanying the headline was not of the Flash, but of four figures standing triumphant, and the names they held were not the names he knew them by: Supergirl (the Earth-1 version who, to his knowledge, was meant to be in a coma in some A.R.G.U.S. bunker for another decade) was now known as Archangel; Black Canary was now known as The Siren; Green Arrow was now called The Huntsman; and The Flash… The Flash had been replaced by the armored figure of Savitar. Finally, and most disturbing, the Crisis was no longer scheduled for April of 2024, but November of 2019.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well… that’s a twist, now isn’t it? Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Kovar strikes me as the type to use racist terms.
> 
> I’ll be honest: the scene with ‘Jack’ and Laurel was very hard to write.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so here we go with a new chapter, now that I got all those old stories spruced up and back in the world.

Oliver Queen dozed in a chair beside Laurel’s hospital bed, having come back in the middle of the night and paid the night nurses to look the other way. After what had happened to her, after what _could_ have happened if he hadn’t shown up, Oliver couldn’t just leave her there, defenseless; he _knew_ this hadn’t been some random act. His gut instinct told him someone had hired the bastard he killed, and if they had tried something once, they would try something again, and there was no way in _hell_ Oliver was going to leave Laurel defenseless in a hospital bed, not after the last time she had been in the hospital in his memory. He had sat here, watching over her, only allowing himself to lightly doze when his eyes grew too heavy.

“Ollie?” a sleepy voice asked, breaking him from his dozing state. Looking at the bed, he saw Laurel watching him, blinking the sleep away from her eyes. “How long have you been there?”

“Since about one a.m.,” Oliver said quietly. “I went home, but I couldn’t stay there. Every time I tried to sleep… well, I just didn’t feel right. If your dad had been here, I’d have just sat out in the waiting room.” Oliver leaned forward. “I just… I couldn’t get past the look in your eyes. You have every right to hate me for what happened, but seeing so you so afraid after what happened… I couldn’t just leave you alone here.”

“Ollie,” Laurel interrupted, reaching out a hand, which he took, “I don’t hate you. You didn’t fire that arrow into my chest; Darhk held us all captive and he used your arrow to stab me because he wanted to hurt _you_. If it was just about what my Dad did, he would’ve used his magic to suck my life away like he’s done to others. He wanted you to blame yourself for what happened. You _are not_ to blame, Ollie. I chose this life, like John, Sara, Roy, Ray, Felicity, and Thea did.”

Oliver swallowed as he heard what she said; this wasn’t the Laurel he had rescued from the would-be rapist only hours ago. This was the Laurel who he had watched convulse and die on the hospital bed three and a half years ago, from his perspective; the Laurel who had died barely ten minutes after confessing to him that he would always be the love of her life, the one who had died believing that he didn’t feel the same for her. “Laurel,” Oliver said softly, “you’re not in the hospital because of Damien Darhk.”

“What are you talking about?” Laurel asked, and then closed her eyes, leaning back on her pillow as a wave of nausea hit her, and with that nausea came a wave of memories that she knew hadn’t occurred. _Oliver approaching her in C.N.R.I. the day he returned to tell her about Sara… being attacked in her apartment, tied up, nearly raped… Oliver standing in her bedroom doorway, expression blank but rage burning in his eyes as he lowered a gun, having just shot her attacker in the back of the head… Oliver sitting with her in the ambulance, and being there until they got the call from Hilton…_ Laurel’s eyes snapped open again with a gasp of air, her heart racing as more memories invaded her mind. _Asking Ollie to make sure she wasn’t the last Canary… a sudden pressure in her mind… living her happiest moment with Oliver over and over… a man named Chuck offering her a second chance, telling her Oliver needed her and was too stubborn to admit it…_

Laurel vaguely heard the machines in her room going wild, heard Oliver shouting for the nurse, heard the nurses and a doctor come rushing in even as black spots appeared in front of her eyes and then, nothing but darkness.

**_*DC*_ **

“ _Chuck_ , I know you can hear me!” Oliver snarled as he walked out onto the roof of the hospital, anguish and anger mangling his handsome features as he glared around in the pre-dawn light. “Show yourself, you son of a bitch!”

“Okay, first, you could ask nicely,” Chuck said as he appeared. “Second, Amara and I don’t _have_ parents. Finally, I don’t like you comparing me to the Monitor there.”

“Explain,” Oliver bit out. “I told you to leave her be; she was happy, she was _safe!_ Why did you drag her out of heaven? Why send her back to this hellscape!?” Oliver threw a hand out to gesture at the entirety of Starling City. “And what just happened?”

“Well, to answer your last question first,” Chuck said, slouching against the roof ledge, “what happened is the same as what happened to Martin Stein after he inadvertently gave his younger self some advice. Laurel is remembering everything that’s happened in this new timeline you’ve been creating, up to the events of last night. She had also blocked out the memory of her final few minutes and has had to relive that as well.” Oliver knew it was futile, but he still swung at Chuck, incensed that the so-called omnipotent being would force someone as kind and good as Laurel to relive such horrific experiences. Chuck, predictably, simply vanished from where he had been standing and reappeared a few feet away. “That was a bit rude,” Chuck pointed out to the archer with a bad attitude, only to receive a vicious sneer that reminded him of the sort Lucifer would give him and a furious look for his trouble. “And I didn’t _drag_ her out of heaven; like you, I offered her a choice. She could stay in her slice of heaven, reliving her happiest moment with you, or she could have another chance at life with you in the real world. A chance to build a family with you, to grow old with you… she _chose_ to leave heaven and come back here to be with _you_ , as ungrateful and selfish as you are.” Chuck rolled his eyes as he dodged yet another attempt by Oliver to punch him. If he tried it again, he’d let it hit him just so the archer had a reason to delay his mission for a few weeks. “Finally, I sent her back to this moment because this is where the future you’re building took a turn for the worse.”

Oliver paused in his third attempt to strike at the fifth-dimensional being (he still refused to believe this slouching bum who dressed like a struggling artist was the one true God) and his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, it took a turn for the worse? And I thought you were all about free will, self-determination, all that shit?”

“I am,” Chuck said. “But even I must adhere to the laws of the universe; or multiverse, as the case might be. The biggest rule being balance. You, a warrior born out of darkness, being sent back alone tilted the scales in favor of the dark. The Laurel who went through that hell last night was susceptible to your hardline beliefs. You eventually freed this world’s Kara Danvers from her prison in A.R.G.U.S., allowing her free reign against them, and took Barry Allen under your wing in only a few weeks’ time. The four of you together became the Regime, and you established a meritocracy on this world, much like your Earth-X counterparts. You defeated the Crisis and saved your cities, at the cost of what made you heroes: your compassion for others.”

Oliver swallowed. He knew the being that had sent him here was telling him the truth. Chuck had done many things, but he had never lied to him. How could he have gone so wrong? How could he have forgotten about the little guy _again_? “And Laurel?”

“I needed to balance your darkness with light. Barry Allen’s afterlife is dictated by the Speed Force that gives him his powers, leaving only someone whose love could anchor you. While you found happiness with Felicity Smoak, you never allowed her to take your name and you could ignore her wishes when it suited you without guilt. There was only one person who you loved enough you would have shared your name with her, and only one person who could force you to truly look at yourself. The same person whom you were going to marry in the perfect world the Dominators created to trap you. Laurel.” Chuck stepped forward. “She will be alright, Oliver. But she will need you, as you need her. Go. Be there for her.”

Oliver’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. “Mess with our lives again, and even if you _are_ God, I’ll find a way to hurt you,” Oliver promised before heading for the door that would take him back into the hospital.

“Wow,” Amara said as she appeared beside her brother. “He is just like your favorite. No wonder you’ve been bending over backwards trying to help him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chuck said dismissively. “Come on, we’ll go to a variant of Earth-X. I’m sure you’d like to destroy some Nazis.” Amara’s pleased smile confirmed Chuck’s assumption, and the two became nothing but light and darkness, swirling together and vanishing.

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver entered Laurel’s hospital room, seeing she was awake and calm again. The smile she beamed at him when she saw him had his own lips quirking up into a soft smile. He had never thought he would see that beautiful, guileless smile aimed at him again. Her Earth-2 counterpart sneered, smirked, grinned viciously, but never once had he seen the Earth-2 immigrant smile the way _his_ Laurel did. “Laurel,” he breathed softly.

“Ollie,” she returned as he came and sat on the edge of her bedside. “I remember now. I remember it all. How are we here? How long have you been-” she stopped when he cupped her face with his hand and proceeded to lean forward, catching her lips with his own. She was surprised, but melted into the kiss, returning it as she placed one hand on his cheek and the other around the back of his head. They separated after several seconds. “Not that I’m complaining,” Laurel said softly, “but why?”

“Because you were wrong that night,” Oliver said softly. “You were wrong when you said were not the love of my life. You are. You always have been. But I didn’t believe I was worthy of you thanks to a serum I was injected with before I returned home. I convinced myself I couldn’t be with you, and not being with you would keep you safe from men like Slade and Ra’s.”

“We are going to have a talk about your protective nature later, Ollie,” Laurel said. “So, how long have you been…”

“I came back to the day before I returned to Lian Yu to stage my rescue,” Oliver said softly. “Instead of doing that, I came back directly by calling in a favor with Waller.” Okay, technically, it wasn’t a favor; he just liked calling it that. It sounded better than saying he was blackmailing Waller by holding the files on the plane Fyers was going to shoot down over her head. “But you’re being here now _is_ my fault.”

“How do you figure?” Laurel asked, resigning herself to having to use all her oratory skills to kick some sense into Oliver’s thick skull. She had a good idea what he meant, which was proven to be true when he answered.

“I decided to hold off on my vigilante work and didn’t go after Hunt,” Oliver said quietly. “He did this, Laurel; he’s the only one who had motive, and I remember seeing your boss with him when I confronted him the last time.”

“Ollie, what that means is that if you _had_ waited last time like you are this time, I would’ve been raped and murdered, and _no one_ but Eric would know that it was anything _but_ a home invasion, rape, and murder case,” Laurel told him firmly. “Because you chose to wait, we now know exactly what kind of man Hunt is, something more than we knew _last_ time. You see this as some sort of failure. I see it as an opportunity; one to clean up C.N.R.I. and take Hunt down for a lot more than just a class-action embezzlement lawsuit.”

“But if I hadn’t come over, if I hadn’t needed to see you alive, to hear your voice, even if it was angry at me…” Oliver began.

“But you did, and you saved my life, saved me from something even _worse_ then dying,” Laurel said. “You kept me from being broken.” She placed a hand softly on his cheek. “Whatever comes after this, whatever this life throws at us, I want you to promise me we’re going to face it together: no more secrets. No more lies. No more trying to die saving this city. I want a life with you, Ollie.”

“I want a life with you, too,” Oliver said softly, cupping her face with his hand again. “Losing you was like losing a piece of my soul… and I don’t got much of one left.”

“You have more than you think, Ollie,” Laurel replied. “And if I have to, I’ll spend the rest of our life together showing you who you _really_ are, not this image of yourself you created.” Laurel was the one to initiate the kiss this time. Neither heard the footsteps coming into the room, the sharp intake of breath, or the whisper of cloth on cloth, caught up in each other as they were. But they noticed when Oliver was ripped away from Laurel, spun around, and received a vicious right hook from a furious Quentin Lance. “Daddy!” Laurel shouted in horror, but Quentin ignored her, intent as he was on making the Queen bastard pay for using his little girl’s trauma as a way of ingratiating himself with her again. He grabbed Oliver by the collar and started punching him repeatedly. He got in five or six good-shots, the third of which knocked the little punk out, before hospital security had grabbed him and were dragging him away from the unconscious Queen scion and his horrified, teary-eyed daughter. Quentin, beyond reason as he was, ended up being tasered by hospital security when he tried to fight them off so he could get back to dealing with the little punk.

**_*DC*_ **

“Malcolm, you can’t be serious,” Moira Queen said, staring to the man who had held her family hostage (metaphorically) for the past five years in shock. “Oliver is in no condition to join the organization. He’s barely settling back in, and according to Dr. Lamb, he’s endured quite a bit of trauma. For all you know, the Undertaking is something he would oppose.”

“I disagree, and I’m only informing you as a courtesy while I wait for Oliver’s answer to my question,” Malcolm told her without a shred of remorse or guilt. “Robert must have told him something; he’s been trying to manipulate me since the other night at Robert’s grave. But it’s also clear he either doesn’t know what happened to the _Gambit_ or doesn’t care. If it’s the former, I have an advantage; if it’s the latter, I want to know _why_. His answer to my question will be telling.”

Moira’s rebuttal was cut off as her cell phone rang. Checking it, she found it was Dr. Lamb, and she answered. “Dr. Lamb, this really isn’t- I’m sorry? Did you just say Oliver was injured on hospital grounds? How did that- Oh. I _see_. Thank you, Dr. Lamb.” Moira pursed her lips as she hung up.

“Oliver?” Malcolm asked.

“Apparently, Oliver was visiting Laurel, and Quentin arrived to see them in an… intimate moment,” Moira replied, smiling despite herself. Laurel _had_ always been the one to bring the best out of Oliver, and if they were finding a way to move past the anger she must’ve felt the past five years, Moira was all for it. “Suffice to say, he didn’t take kindly to it. Hospital security had to stun him. Oliver has a broken nose and a few loose teeth. I’ll have to make an appointment with Dr. Percy.” Moira looked at Malcolm. “If you don’t want me fighting the idea of Oliver joining Tempest, Malcolm, then there’s something you need to do. Quentin won’t let this go and he’ll use all the resources of the S.C.P.D. he can to go after my son for what happened to Sara.”

“I’ll speak with Nudocerdo,” Malcolm replied. “By this evening, Quentin will be lucky to get a job as a security guard.”

**_*DC*_ **

“I really didn’t expect him to go at you like that,” Laurel said, tenderly stroking Oliver’s bruised jaw. He leaned into her touch, eyes closing, earning a soft smile from Laurel. It reminded her of simpler times for them, before the island, before he became the Hood. The simple pleasure they gained from being in one another’s company. She wondered how long it had been for him since she died; Chuck hadn’t said anything about that, saying that Oliver should tell her about what happened. He had said it could be an exercise in trust for Oliver, who she knew was a man who didn’t like to share what he was feeling very often, much less share all the information about a situation. Chuck either didn’t know how stubborn Oliver could be, or somehow believed she could get him to talk to her. “He never did anything like that last time.” The door to the room was closed, and if there was one great thing about hospital doors, it was they were thick and allowed the occupants privacy.

“That’s not quite true,” Oliver said with a wince. “Last time, at the welcome home bash, I think he would’ve. And remember when I was being transported, before Roy sacrificed himself?” Laurel nodded mutely. “He didn’t take kindly to me saying I loved you and Sara, too. This was always gonna happen. I just wish it had happened in a private setting I could control.” Oliver gave her a regretful look. “You know what my Mom is going to do.”

“I know,” Laurel said softly, closing her eyes. She knew that her father had barely hung onto his job with his “false” accusation that Oliver had been the Hood in the previous timeline. With him outright assaulting Oliver, with witnesses and video evidence showing him in a towering rage and being subdued via a taser, there was little to no chance he would keep his job, even if Moira Queen didn’t make anything happen. Which reminded her… “Ollie, even if your Mom does do something, Dad would lose his job for what he did anyways. He’s barely been holding onto it, and that’s because Pike’s suspended him a couple of times in lieu of being fired. But this won’t be something Pike could sweep under the rug. Not with the witnesses and video evidence. So, again, don’t blame yourself just because Dad will. Daddy is a grown man, and he swore an oath to uphold the law. Well, the law’s pretty clear on open cases of police brutality.” Laurel closed her eyes. “About the only thing you can do now, Ollie, is ask the judge to go easy on him, since you were the victim.”

“You know I will,” Oliver said softly, taking her hand in both of his. “But I will recommend he serve any sentence at a treatment facility.”

“I agree,” Laurel said softly. She swallowed. “How did he take what happened to me? After…”

“Not well,” Oliver said. “He hung on for as long as he could, but he fell off the wagon. Hard. But he eventually checked himself into a treatment facility.” Oliver sighed. “There’s a lot we have to talk about, but we can’t do it here. I bought the loft; swing by later so we can talk about everything that happened after Darhk.” Oliver grimaced. “I have to go to the mansion and meet the movers, not to mention see what I can do to keep my mother from doing anything extreme about Quentin.”

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel took a deep breath, accepting the comforting hand on her shoulder from Joanna as she inserted her key into her front door and unlocked the apartment. She had asked Joanna to go with her, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of going back there alone after what had nearly happened. The memory of ‘Jack’ and what he had been planning to do, what little he _had_ done in making her powerless to defend herself… it had been keeping her on edge the entire trip from the hospital to her apartment. Now, as she entered, her eyes instantly went to the stack of case files still on the hallway nightstand, the shattered remains of her mug on the floor, and when she entered her bedroom, the bloodstain from where Oliver had shot ‘Jack’ in the head. Her heart was racing again, her breath coming in quick, short gasps.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Joanna murmured softly, pulling Laurel into a one-armed hug. “Do you want to maybe grab some clothes and stay somewhere else? My place? A friend’s?”

“Yeah,” Laurel said, but when her eyes fell on the bloodstain again, and then her bed, she couldn’t take it anymore. She turned and fled the apartment, barely making it to her bathroom before she was vomiting, tears once more running down her cheeks as she remembered not only the frustration and humiliation of what ‘Jack’ had done to her, but also the frustration and humiliation she had felt when she had been _powerless_ to stop Darhk from stabbing her. The look in his eyes, the almost child-like glee he gained from holding her tight with his magic as he made her into a victim of his mind-game with Oliver, the way he had smiled, ever so briefly, as she shook in place, gasping for air as he twisted Ollie’s arrow inside of her, the _pleasure_ he clearly felt in his sadism…

Joanna crouched beside Laurel, not knowing exactly what was going through her friend’s head but rubbing soothing circles on her bath and whispering comforting words. “I’ll get some things together for you,” Joanna said softly. “You go wait in the car.” Laurel nodded, wiping her lips with a towel and then washing her mouth out with tap water before she left her apartment on shaky legs. She didn’t understand; she had been attacked by the Triad, Cyrus Vanch, Rasmus’ mercenary, Blood’s cult, and even dirty cops in her apartment and been able to go back to it every time. What was so different about this time from all the others? She could’ve died all those other times as well. Of course, the answer came almost immediately. It was different because this hadn’t just been about _killing_ her. This had been about humiliating her, using her to send a message to someone, and making her nothing but a damsel in distress, or the maiden that was to be sacrificed to appease the dragon; the dragon, in this case, being the crime and corruption that infested the city.

When Joanna came down to the car ten minutes later with a small duffel bag, a few days’ worth of clothes packed in it, she had only one question: “Where do you want to go?”

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver opened the door to the loft, boxes still taking up space on his couch, to find Laurel and her friend, Joanna, on the other side (the latter giving the former a look that said ‘you gotta be kidding’). Oliver’s lips twitched before he said, “Laurel, come on in. It’s Joanna, right? I think Laurel mentioned you once, said you were wanting to be a lawyer. Please, come in. The place is still a bit… cluttered. Let me clear some space.”

“Oh, I won’t be staying,” Joanna said. “Laurel had a… panic attack at her apartment. I packed up some of her things and she asked I bring her here.”

“Well, thank you for that,” Oliver said sincerely, putting an arm around Laurel as she entered. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a bit?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Joanna said. “Just… just do what you can for her.”

“I’m right here, Joanna,” Laurel hissed, earning a low, rumbling chuckle from Oliver, whom she elbowed in the ribs in rebuke.

“Ow,” Oliver said blandly.

“Right, looks like you two’ll be just fine,” Joanna said, laughing lightly despite herself. She gave Laurel a small, sad smile. “Take all the time you need, Laurel. What you went through… it’s not something you get over easily.” Joanna gave Laurel a hug, not knowing just how much of an understatement her words were, before placing Laurel’s bag of clothes on the floor and leaving.

Oliver guided Laurel to the couch, clearing off a place for them to sit, and then the duo of time travelers sat down. Oliver watched her. “So, panic attack?”

“It wasn’t just what happened with that ‘Jack’ guy,” Laurel said softly. “I was remembering Darhk, too. The glee, the pleasure, the _satisfaction_ he had in making me into just another victim of his monstrosity, into making me a pawn in the mind-games he was playing with you and Daddy. Vanch. Merlyn. Blood. Slade. Zytle. Ra’s. I thought I’d seen evil; but what I saw in how Darhk gained such pleasure from twisting that arrow while it was inside me, carving up my lung… I knew I’d never really seen evil.” Laurel looked at Oliver. “I saw the same thing in ‘Jack’, Ollie. The same lack of anything that would make him human. The same desire to cause pain for his own pleasure, to inflict as much suffering as he could on me before he ended my life, the desire to control every breath I took until he stole it from me… I’ve never faced evil like that before.” Laurel’s vision blurred. “How do you do it? How do you deal with facing that kind of evil and not faltering?”

“Edmund Burke,” Oliver said softly, and Laurel blinked. “He once wrote that all that is left in the world for evil men to triumph is for good men to do nothing. When faced with true evil like Darhk and ‘Jack’, its easy to lose hope, Laurel.” Oliver shifted so that he could see her. “What I do when I face that kind of evil is I remember what it is, _who_ it is, I’m fighting for. You. Thea. My family. The people I love. Do you know why I give them a chance to atone?”

“No,” Laurel said.

“Because I’m atoning for what _I_ did during those five years I was away,” Oliver said. “I didn’t just become a warrior, Laurel. I became someone who _enjoyed_ the thrill of the hunt, enjoyed the moment of the kill. A friend once told me that I reminded him of Anthony Ivo and Slade Wilson, and that I was lying to myself if I believed that I could truly separate the Hood from Oliver Queen. He was right. When I went back to Lian Yu in the last timeline to set up my return, I was injected with a serum that forced me to relive all of the pain and suffering that had been inflicted on me in the five years I’d been away, and it also tormented me with visions of those I’d failed, all of them telling me that the only way to protect those I loved was to end it all. I was given a gun with a single bullet, Laurel, and I had it pressed against my temple.”

“What happened?” Laurel asked, swallowing the lump forming in her throat at hearing just how close Oliver had gotten to never coming home.

“You,” Oliver said quietly. “I had a hallucination of you that said that my father, Sara, and everyone else who had died, or who I thought had died, over those five years would have died in vain if I ended things. That the only way to protect you all was to come home. It reminded me not only of what I’m fighting for, but also the most important thing about being human, the thing I had forced myself to forget about in order to survive; compassion. You are the _most_ compassionate person I know. You have the biggest heart to go with your smile, and despite everything I’ve done to you, you still love me, you still cared about my family even when I seemingly didn’t. Because of that reminder, I had the strength to fight that serum not just then, but for seven and a half years, and I offered the criminal and the corrupt the chance to atone because _you_ , or the memory of you, offered me that chance.”

Laurel blinked back the tears at Oliver’s passionate speech, her mouth opening and closing a few times, unable to form the words to express herself. But then her mind latched onto something Oliver had said. “Seven and a half years?” she said quietly. “Ollie… are you saying you only lasted four years after I died?”

“Yeah,” Oliver said. “It’s one of the reasons I was given the chance to come back, Laurel. Chuck showed me the future that would happen. There’s a Crisis coming, Laurel, a Crisis that will threaten the entire multiverse. Even if that wasn’t enough, I saw what happens to Star City because I wasn’t willing to do what I had to. It falls, Laurel. Our city falls, and my _children_ take up the mantle twenty years after my death. I will not let that be my legacy. I won’t let countless children, my own included, grow up on streets flooded with fear, streets ruled by a criminal elite who don’t care who they hurt, so long as they maintain their wealth and power.” Oliver cupped her face with his hand. “I tried to be a hero, Laurel. More than once. You died, and in the end, I became shackled when I was deputized by the S.C.P.D. I couldn’t help the people, because the law strangled me. I know you love the law, and I won’t ask you to join me on that path. But know that everything I will do, I do because there is no other way.”

Laurel touched Oliver’s cheek. “Ollie, I won’t make any decisions on _that_ front yet,” she said. “Right now, though, I need you to be honest with me, and tell me everything that happened after I died in that hospital.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whew. It got emotional a couple of times there. Next chapter, Oliver catches Laurel up on three and a half years (or thereabouts) of history and maybe has an, ahem, therapy session with a certain Mr. Hunt…
> 
> Oliver’s legacy being to fail his city PISSES ME OFF.
> 
> Quentin kept his job so long as he did either because someone was protecting him or because of corruption. In this story, it’s the former.
> 
> Hope people understand why I chose to do what I did with Laurel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, so this chapter took a few twists and turns despite being a ‘explanation’ chapter. I fully admit the episode description for “Lost Canary” colored how I wrote this.

“After you died,” Oliver began, “there was a kid, a teenager, who snuck into your room and took your gear. Her name was Evelyn Sharpe, and her parents had been among those at the facility we blew up before Darhk had Felicity and I attacked. You remember it?” Laurel nodded, grimacing; she wished they could’ve helped those people, but they’d been completely indoctrinated by Darhk and H.I.V.E. “She found a way to modify your device to go to a higher pitch, one that could kill people if needed, and she started going after everyone connected to H.I.V.E. At the same time, I had to talk John down from going after Ruve and keep an eye on Quentin, who was spiraling after what happened to you.” Laurel closed her eyes; while her father was being irrational in the here and now, the version of her father then had dealt with losing Sara twice and then losing her. How he managed to keep from eating his gun, she didn’t know. “We stopped Evelyn, but she had caused a lot of damage to the name of the Black Canary. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen… so at your funeral I revealed you were killed not because of your job as the District Attorney, but because of your actions as the Black Canary.”

“Thank you, Ollie, but you didn’t need to do that,” Laurel said, taking his hand and squeezing it comfortingly.

“Yes, I did,” Oliver said quietly. “You were the _best_ of us, Laurel, and if I couldn’t keep you alive, I wasn’t going to let your memory be destroyed in death.” Oliver took a calming breath. “Afterward, we searched for a way to combat Darhk’s magic. At the same time, we learned what his end-game was. A.R.G.U.S. had created a program that would let them seize control of every nuclear device on the planet. He intended to create his own Genesis event, with only his chosen from H.I.V.E. surviving inside an Ark they had constructed. We ended up having to work with Felicity’s father to stop this event. But…” Oliver looked down. “One nuke managed to hit land; all Felicity was able to do was shift it.”

“Where did it hit?” Laurel asked. “The Middle East? China? Russia?” Her mind was whirring with possibilities. All of those would have resulted in not only horrific casualties, but a world in which Oliver wanted to change things for the better.

“The original target was Monument Point, outside of D.C.,” Oliver said in a distant tone, and Laurel felt a wave of nausea hit her for the umpteenth time, it felt like, since she had woken up in that hospital bed and learned she was in the past. “Felicity managed to shift it to Havenrock, a coastal town, but that was still 10,000 people who burned up that day.”

Laurel dashed for the bathroom, barely making it for the second time that day before she began heaving. A nuke detonating on American soil, 10,000 people wiped out in _one_ go… it was like what Merlyn had planned for the Glades, only on a grander scale. She returned to the living room on shaky legs, collapsing next to Oliver who handed her a glass of water, which she took with a shaky, but thankful, smile and sipped at it. “Okay,” she rasped out, her throat still sore, “I’m ready.”

“We managed to stop the rest of the nukes, and then I went after Darhk,” Oliver said. “To put it mildly, I gave him a lesson in karmic justice. Afterward, the team broke apart. Quentin left town with Donna; Thea decided to figure out who she was outside of Speedy; John went back to the military. Sara had come back briefly, but she made a decision that I still don’t understand.” At Laurel’s inquiring look, Oliver sighed. “She and the rest had been given an offer to help Rip Hunter clean up time aberrations, since the Time Masters had apparently been wiped out. She decided that since you had said she should go with Rip on the mission to stop Savage, that the best way to honor your sacrifice was to go with Rip on his new mission.” Oliver looked away. “We were still friendly, but I told her once that I thought she had dishonored your sacrifice by running away from the city you died protecting.”

“As much as I love my sister, that _does_ sound like her,” Laurel said with a sad sigh. “She has always run from her problems. She ran from the League when the killing got to be too much; she ran back to the League the moment she had a setback trying the new path you were treading; she ran to Tibet almost as soon as she could; and then she ran to join Rip on this mission. I told her to go because then, at least, I knew she would be doing something worthwhile instead of drinking away her sorrows somewhere.” Laurel put one hand under Oliver’s chin and tilted his head, so he was looking at her. “You were right to tell her that, even if it didn’t do any good.”

“It didn’t, maybe because of _when_ I told her that,” Oliver said. Laurel gave him a look of confusion. “It’ll come up later,” he added, and she nodded. “Anyways, it was down to just me and Felicity.”

“How did she take what happened to Havenrock?” Laurel asked, concerned about the bubbly blonde; even if her support of Laurel’s own path of vigilantism had been borne more from a rebellious attitude towards Oliver’s alliance with Malcolm Merlyn against Ra’s al Ghul, the two women had still become friendly and Laurel had begun to see Felicity in a different light outside of their work as vigilantes, much as she had begun to see Nyssa in a different light when the youngest al Ghul had come to her, uncertain of herself because of Ra’s’ interest in Oliver and his outright dismissal of her right to claim the title of Demon’s Head.

“A lot worse than she let on,” Oliver said quietly. “She managed to hide it, and it was only in hindsight I saw how much what happened broke her. I wish I hadn’t been so blind, but my grief over your death and my descent back to the Hood blinded me to what was happening to Felicity.”

“By ‘descent back to the Hood’, you mean…” Laurel trailed off questioningly.

“I mean I started killing again,” Oliver said. “I hate Merlyn; I always will. But he was right about one thing. Because of how I was trained, because of how corrupt this city is, if I’m not willing to do whatever it takes, I shouldn’t be out there. If I hadn’t been so focused on being a goddamned ‘hero in the light’ like Barry was, wanting to be accepted the way Central City accepts him, I’d have killed Darhk long before the bastard ever got close to killing you.”

“Ollie…” Laurel said, not sure what she could say.

“Anyways,” Oliver said, shaking his head and moving on with what had happened, “part of the fallout from destroying H.I.V.E. was that Ruve had died with the Ark and I was asked to step up as mayor. I found out soon enough that whatever I thought I could do as mayor, I was wrong. The city council had gotten used to being able to call the shots without oversight, and they especially didn’t like someone like me being in charge. So, I used my position mainly as a source of information for my work as Green Arrow.” Oliver gave her a look. “If I _ever_ get the idea in my head to run for mayor this time around, do me a favor and knock some sense into me. Literally.”

“Yeah, you as mayor is definitely not something I can see happening,” Laurel said with a wince. “At least, not under those circumstances.”

“Exactly what circumstances do you see me becoming Mayor in?” Oliver asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, if the Hoods are still a thing for this timeline, the position _will_ be open…” Laurel pointed out. “You’d be a better option than Sebastian or your mother.”

“We’ll talk about that idea more when it comes to that time,” Oliver said. “After five months, a new player appeared on the scene. Tobias Church. Felicity also began pestering me about recruiting a new team. In the end, I agreed to do so. We recruited Evelyn Sharpe, Rene Ramirez, and Curtis.”

“Curtis,” Laurel said flatly. “I don’t see that ending well.”

“Let’s just say over a year afterward, he was still incapable,” Oliver said shortly. “In the end, he left the vigilante life and took a job in D.C. Unfortunately, I had to put up with his whining for two years.” Oliver shook his head. “It was like putting up with a nerdy, wimpy Joe West.” Laurel winced at that; she knew just from the occasional sarcastic comments Oliver would make about Barry’s foster father that he and Joe barely tolerated one another. “Felicity decided to start bucking authority at this point, not wearing a mask in front of the recruits she didn’t know.” Oliver frowned, looking at Laurel curiously. “Can I ask you something about our work together? As Green Arrow and Black Canary?”

“Of course,” Laurel said softly.

“Did I-Did I ever come across as trying to tear you down? Break you?”

“No,” Laurel said instantly. “I won’t say I didn’t feel that way when you went after me when you first got back from fighting Ra’s, but then the whole thing with Zytle happened and I understood that was just your way of expressing concern. You didn’t want me doing this if I didn’t have the training to defend myself. Then Nyssa helped me train, and by the end of that whole thing, I knew you respected me. I know I said things in anger the next year, but they were just that: things said in anger.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “You don’t treat us with kid gloves; you tell us what its really like, and me, Roy, Thea… we all appreciated that. What brought this on?”

“Something Curtis said when the recruits quit,” Oliver mumbled.

“First, we established Curtis isn’t vigilante material, so why would his opinion matter in the first place?” Laurel countered. “Second, if the other two couldn’t take it, they didn’t belong on the team in the first place.”

“I _really_ wish you had been around when I had to deal with them,” Oliver sighed.  “As it is, Felicity convinced me that I needed to change my tactics with them and that included revealing who I was. I also found a recruit of my own volition… the sole survivor of Havenrock.”

“How did Felicity react to that?” Laurel asked slowly.

“She did her best to avoid him, and then finally told him that Havenrock was her fault,” Oliver said. “He left the team briefly but came back.” Oliver rolled his eyes. “At the same time, I was helping Dig, who had been imprisoned on false charges, and so when Tobias Church made a move against my Anti-Crime Unit, a unit of cops that would handle both major cases and investigate the corruption in the police department, the recruits decided to handle it. One of them got captured, and Church questioned him and learned who I was. Dig had to reach out to an old friend of his, a guy codenamed the Human Target, to help us fool Church. We got him, in the end, but it turned out that Church was just the warm-up act. The real test was about to begin.”

“So, on a scale of Daniel Brickwell to Ra’s al Ghul…” Laurel said, trailing off questioningly.

“Imagine an enemy with the skillsets of Merlyn and Ra’s, and the vendetta of Slade Wilson,” Oliver said, “and you have the essentials of Prometheus. That’s what he called himself; because like Prometheus from the legends, he saw himself as challenging a god, someone who played judge, jury, and executioner. He killed a few people, and aside from Tobias Church, none of them were hardened criminals. It wasn’t until Felicity and Curtis started thinking ‘outside of the box’ that we understood.” Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out a weathered leather journal that Laurel remembered seeing around the lair but had never looked at, assuming it was something Oliver used as a form of therapy. Oliver handed it to her, and she opened it, her green eyes widening as she saw a list of names, names she remembered were Oliver’s take downs in the coming year. “The names of Prometheus’ victims were anagrams for names on this List,” Oliver said quietly. “The recruits… didn’t take it well. Rory, the recruit from Havenrock, said it was clear what Prometheus, who we had been calling a serial killer, was trying to say. That _I_ was the serial killer.”

“Seems to me there’s a huge problem with that theory,” Laurel said, tapping her chin thoughtfully, and her mocking tone reminded him rather forcibly of her Earth-2 counterpart’s. Maybe they weren’t as unalike as he had forced himself to believe, which made what eventually happened with regards to Black Siren more damning. “First, most of the people on this list were still alive by the time you faced Merlyn the night of the Undertaking, and most of those who _were_ dead had been hired thugs. I didn’t understand why you used such lethal methods at first, Ollie, but then you and Dad saved me from Vanch. Do you remember that?”

Oliver nodded, wondering where Laurel was going with this. “Vanch had _everything_ planned out, Ollie,” Laurel continued. “He knew you had a finite amount of arrows and flechettes, because he had studied all the reports about you. He made sure to have more men then you had weapons. When I thought about you, the Hood, going up against all those people, I finally understood why you used such crippling methods, methods that _could_ lead to death depending on the circumstance.” Laurel put one hand under Oliver’s chin and tilted his head up so his blue eyes met her green ones. “Twenty-six.” Oliver’s brow furrowed. “That’s how many people you killed before the Undertaking. Most of them were hired thugs with rap sheets. There were only a handful who were actual bodyguards with families they were providing for, and don’t think I don’t know about the anonymous donations those families received. Felicity liked to talk you up even when she was angry at you.” Laurel took a deep breath, realizing she was going off on a tangent. “My point is, the only people on this List that _you_ killed were men like Leo Mueller, who planned to arm the Glades’ gangs with military-grade weapons, or Justin Claybourne, who weaponized tuberculosis and jacked up the prices on the treatment his pharmaceutical company developed. These were _not_ good men or innocent civilians.”

Laurel leaned back on the couch. “Yes, the F.B.I. would probably classify you as a mission-based serial killer,” she said quietly, “but you were not gaining sexual pleasure from killing these people. You were gaining satisfaction at dealing out justice that they had evaded through every legal loophole available to them. Prometheus killed innocent people to send a twisted message, and I’d bet anything he derived some sick pleasure from the kill. You were _nothing_ like him.”

Oliver swallowed the lump in his throat. “I really wish you had been around to defend me that day,” Oliver said quietly.

“Wait, John and Felicity didn’t say anything?” Laurel asked, truly shocked, because while she knew both had had their problems with Oliver (she had had her own issues with him), they _had_ joined his crusade in the coming year, and she doubted they hadn’t known about the List.

Oliver sighed. “John and Felicity may have joined my crusade and known about the List, but neither of them agreed about using it,” Oliver admitted. “The Restons, I took on because Dig forced the issue, and the Dodger I took on because Felicity hadn’t taken too kindly to what I did with some of those on the List. I had decided to recruit her so I could focus more of my attention on training and taking down the people on the List… not to mention preparing to confront Malcolm again. So, I went out of my way to prove to her I wasn’t just focused on the List. As it was, after I dealt with the Hoods, both John and Felicity fully supported my decision to abandon the List.” Oliver shook his head with a mirthless laugh. “It’s ironic, really.” He opened the List and turned to a page. He pointed at a name.

“Who’s James Midas?” Laurel asked.

“Someone I never got around to taking down, and then he popped up a little under three years after you died,” Oliver said. “My first ‘major’ takedown as a deputized member of the S.C.P.D. I got a confession and everything, but because I did it with my preferred tactics, it was thrown out. I took him down ‘the right way’ in the end, but that was where things started going downhill. We’ll get to that later,” he added, seeing Laurel’s curious expression. “For now, just know that a lot of the people on this List are people who profit from the suffering of others, and some of them pop up even after I take them down.” Oliver sighed. “Look, if I go through everything in extreme detail, we’re gonna be here all night. I’ll give you an overview for now, and then we talk during training whenever we get the chance.”

“Training?” Laurel asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Please, Laurel, I know I can be bull-headed,” Oliver said, and Laurel coughed to cover up a laugh, “but we both know that as soon as you can, you’re going to be going back out there as the Black Canary. Besides… you’re the only other person in this city besides Malcolm who has League training thanks to Nyssa, and we both need to keep our skills there sharp. Half the reason I got my ass kicked by him this coming Christmas was because I had slacked off, gotten lazy because I was just dealing with hired goons and bodyguards with soft stomachs.”

“So, you’re not going to fight me on it this time?” Laurel asked, surprised. “I’d have thought you’d be pulling your whole misogynistic caveman routine and wanting to keep me locked away and safe, especially since I’m guessing you found a way to ream out Chuck for pulling me out of heaven. Yeah, he told me that you wanted me to stay there,” Laurel added at Oliver’s surprised expression. “While it _is_ very sweet that you didn’t want me to have a _Buffy_ experience, Chuck was right to offer me the choice. If it’s a decision between living one slice-of-life moment over and over and building a life with you here in the real world, with all the aches and pains that go with it, I’ll take the latter every time.” Laurel leaned forward, and gave Oliver a quick, searing kiss before pulling away. “Now, continue with the overview.”

“Uh, right,” Oliver said, shaking away the blankness that enveloped his mind (aside from the singular thought of wondering how he got so lucky to have someone like Laurel love him). “Well, the recruits eventually accepted that I was trying to do better. We then encountered another new player, who simply called himself Vigilante. He didn’t care about collateral damage.” Laurel scowled at that. “And while Barry claims otherwise, Dig and I nearly had him when Barry showed up and dragged us into a fight against an alien invasion.”

Laurel blinked. Then she blinked again; and again; and again. “Come again?” she asked weakly.

Oliver gave her a crooked smile. “Believe me, if you thought the whole thing with Savage and Darhk was weird… things got even weirder after you died.” Oliver’s smile faded. “Sara and her team, Barry and his team, me and my team, and an alien superhero from another Earth all banded together to fight them. During that, the Dominators captured some of us without powers and trapped us in a ‘perfect’ reality.” Oliver looked at her. “My perfect reality was I was finally worthy of you and we were getting married. But I had to leave it all behind, because I was needed in the real world. That was one of the hardest things I had to do, Laurel, even if it wasn’t real. It was why I didn’t want to pull you out of heaven. In the end, we beat the Dominators and returned to our cities.

“Prometheus upped his campaign, and we found out he was Justin Claybourne’s son. He tricked me into killing Felicity’s boyfriend at the time. I was so broken, Laurel, from both what happened with the Dominators and killing someone who was innocent. I went to the Bunker with the intention to grab one of John’s guns and just end it; my only hope was I’d get to see you once more before I burned for all I’ve done.” Oliver looked away from Laurel’s horrified gaze. “But when I entered the Bunker… you were standing there.”

“Okay, I think we need to forget the overview thing,” Laurel said quietly. “Let’s just focus on getting through the events of the year after I died first. We can break up the explanations, so you have time to figure out everything you want to tell me.” Oliver nodded, still a bit subdued remembering what he had been planning to do that night before he saw the woman he came to know as Black Siren. “Now, I’m guessing that it wasn’t me. Did Prometheus have someone undergo plastic surgery to make them look like me?”

“No,” Oliver said. “No, it was much worse. Do you remember Barry telling us about Zoom?” Laurel nodded. “After you died, Zoom brought over an army of metahumans from his Earth to attack Central City. One of his lieutenants was Black Siren, a twisted version of you who could emit a sonic scream powerful enough to bring down entire buildings.”

Laurel’s hand shot to her mouth, sick to her stomach again, but she had nothing left in her. “How many did she…” Laurel began but trailed off, not sure if she really wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” Oliver said. “Prometheus freed her from S.T.A.R. Labs and in return she tried to infiltrate the team, pretending to be you.” Laurel felt a fury begin to burn in her chest at that. “But unlike you, she didn’t have a problem with alcoholism, and she raised Felicity’s suspicions. In the end, she was exposed, and we ended up capturing her, locking her up in A.R.G.U.S. After that, I decided it was time to keep my promise to you and train a new Canary. We vetted a lot of people. In the end we found a woman we thought was named Tina Boland. She was former C.C.P.D. and had been tracking a man named Sean Sonus. I gave her the opening, and she walked through it. Then she told us her real name was Dinah Drake, and that she had used the name Tina Boland with C.C.P.D. to protect the people she loved.”

Laurel held up a hand. “Wait, so you’re saying her name in the official police records was ‘Tina Boland’?” she asked sharply. Oliver nodded, confused at Laurel’s reaction. “Ollie… you _can’t_ operate under a false name within any police department unless you work undercover, and undercover police officers’ real identities are kept on a separate server from the main servers, which only Internal Affairs and their immediate superiors have access to. If her name on official records was Tina Boland, then that _is_ her name. Don’t you remember? My mother’s name was Dinah Drake before she married Dad.”

Oliver felt something cold trickle down his spine even as a curdle of dread formed in his gut. “Singh called her Boland,” he mumbled, remembering that single conversation he had had with Captain Singh. At Laurel’s look, Oliver spoke up. “Barry’s Captain, Singh, was her captain. When I called to talk to him as Green Arrow, and Barry made sure he knew I was the real deal… he called her Boland, not Drake.” Oliver rubbed his lower jaw. “She played me.”

“Yeah,” Laurel said, squeezing Oliver’s hand sympathetically. “But was she working for Prometheus, too?”

“No, no, she fought with us against him,” Oliver said. “But I can think of someone who was probably the one who put her into the team… and that makes some of what she did later suspect.” Oliver shook his head. “Let’s move on. I need some time to figure things out when it comes to Di-Tina.” Laurel nodded, hating this woman who had twisted Oliver up without even being here. “Prometheus continued his mind games, and I finally tracked down my old teacher, who I had realized trained him. I thought she didn’t know; I was wrong. She knew exactly who he was and why he was coming after me. She _supported_ his desire to destroy me and everything I loved.”

“Why?” Laurel asked.

“When we met, she never told me her full name,” Oliver said quietly. “It was Talia al Ghul. Nyssa’s older sister and someone who was fanatically loyal to their father despite her own disagreement with him.” Oliver met Laurel’s shocked gaze. “She trained Prometheus because I killed her father. But she was willing to tell me who he was because she wanted to see me destroyed, too. He was my District Attorney: Adrian Chase. I trusted him; I thought he was a friend; but he was playing me all that time.” Oliver looked away. “I decided that the best way to reach him was to show his wife what he had become. I thought if anyone could reach him, it would be the woman he loved. I was wrong; he killed her. Dig got her out of there to try and save her life while I fought Adrian. I almost had him… and then Talia intervened. They captured me and Adrian held me for a week, torturing me and trying to get me to confess to something I didn’t even know was true.” Oliver met Laurel’s gaze. “My crusade was based on a lie. I didn’t kill because I had to; I killed because I wanted to, because I _liked_ it.”

“Bullshit!” Laurel snapped, and Oliver reared back in surprise. “We already talked about this, Ollie. You gained satisfaction from ending the lives of evil men. Anyone with a good heart would feel some satisfaction.”

“Would you still think that if I told you that Adam Hunt and Eric Gitter are tied up in the foundry, and when I leave here, I’m going to torture them for hours for their part in what happened to you last night, before I finally kill them?” Oliver asked. “There’s a reason you were in heaven, Laurel. You are a good person, and you have so much love. But there’s also a reason Ra’s wanted me for his Heir, the same reason that when I finally die, I’m destined for the flames. I _am_ darkness and cruelty and rage. You may be an angel, but I’m a demon, and that’s all I know how to be.”

“And that is why Chuck brought me back,” Laurel said, touching his cheek. “As twisted as it is, we balance each other out. Our love for each other keeps us _both_ grounded, keeps us from going to extremes of compassion or cruelty. Both can become a poison. Extreme compassion like Barry showed so many of his foes can lead to horrible consequences, just as extreme cruelty can lead to people viewing you as a monster. Or yourself, for that matter.” Laurel took one of his hands in both of hers. “Did they see your face, Ollie?”

“No,” Oliver said. “In fact, it was the Bratva who took them. I did a favor for them, a business arrangement, in payment.”

“Then you can still turn back from it, Ollie,” Laurel said. “You don’t have to be the monster.”

Oliver smiled sadly before leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek before standing. “It’s all I know how to be…” he said quietly. “I’ll tell you more about what happened when I get back. For now… Hunt and Gitter have to pay.” Oliver’s entire mood seemed to shift, and Laurel recognized the blank stare and predatory walk he possessed as he left. That wasn’t Oliver, or even the Hood, who had left her.

It was Al Sah-Him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so first off, one of the more ridiculous things with ‘second chance fics’ where Oliver is his more bad-ass self is that Laurel, who had a very strong moral center and preferred to let the law handle things even when she was a practicing vigilante, suddenly becomes fine with what he does even if she doesn’t also remember the future. Laurel may accept the need for his methods in extreme cases (Merlyn, Ra’s, Darhk, etc.) but she is still a very compassionate person and would have issues with Oliver’s brutal methods outside of extreme cases like those mentioned. So, no, things are not going to be just hunky-dory between these two.
> 
> Dinah Drake/Tina Boland: seriously, I’m no cop, but even I know that they don’t keep the records of their UNDERCOVER OPERATIVES on the main server. There’s a “Person of Interest” episode that covers this topic, and that show actually seemed to research their shit as much as they could. Those kinds of records are kept on a separate, dedicated server to protect those officers and those they love. When they leave their undercover work, their records go back to the ‘main server’ and they are NOT ALLOWED to have a false name on those. Period. Now, obviously, this is just Guggie’s bad storytelling abilities, but I’m going to take advantage of it. So, if you’re a Dinah fan… sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Now, as to the recent release of 7x18’s description: I really hope there’s some major twist. Otherwise, as Maquis_Leader pointed out to me and Lyco in a PM discussion on Twitter, they’re not only throwing out all of Black Siren’s character development this season, but also trashing Earth-1 Laurel’s legacy. I came to the separate realization that if this is the case, it means they’re basically setting up Tina to be the ‘one true Black Canary’ who gets remembered in Thawne’s day. No. Just… no.


End file.
